Ray didn't have to wait long. The rhythmic thud of approaching footsteps reached his ears, cutting through the murmurs of the gathered hunters.
He lifted his gaze, turning toward the sound.
Liera was coming back. But unlike before, this time she wasn't alone.
Behind her, six figures strode forward, their movements exuding quiet confidence—seasoned hunters who had long since mastered the art of survival.
Their presence alone was enough to part the crowd, onlookers instinctively stepping aside.
The morning sunlight caught the edges of their weapons, the faint glint of steel reflecting off their armor, giving them an almost surreal, untouchable aura.
Liera came to a halt just a few steps before him, arms crossed, her gaze steady. For a brief moment, she simply looked at him.
Then she spoke.
"Are you sure you won't regret entering the dungeon?"
Her voice carried none of her usual irritation. It was a final confirmation, a quiet warning wrapped in simple words.
Ray met her gaze without flinching. "I won't." His tone was calm, but his eyes burned with fierce resolve—the kind that wouldn't waver once a decision was made.
Something flickered in Liera's expression. Amusement? Resignation? Whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a small, knowing smile.
"Alright."
She turned slightly, gesturing toward the six figures standing behind her.
Ray could feel their gazes on him—some curious, some indifferent, and a few carrying the unmistakable weight of irritation. One of them looked at him the way someone might look at an unnecessary burden.
It doesn't matter how they perceive me, Ray thought, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. As long as I can enter the dungeon.
He shifted his attention back to Liera, pushing aside any concern for their opinions.
And then, the introductions began.
She pointed at the man standing at the front. He was a tall, broad-shouldered figure with an air of authority.
His brown eyes, which were gleaming like a predator, swept over Ray as if assessing him.
A long, and pointed spear rested diagonally across his back, its body adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of both craftsmanship and experience.
"This is Nathaniel Grant," Liera said. "Expert Rank. A Spearman . He's the leader of this squad."
Nathaniel gave Ray a short nod, his expression unreadable. Not dismissive, but not welcoming either. Just acknowledgment.
Liera's hand moved to the woman standing slightly behind Nathaniel, her stance relaxed, yet every movement was calculated.
Her black hair was tied into a high ponytail, twin daggers strapped to her thighs. Her emerald eyes shimmered with amusement as they flickered over Ray, assessing him like a predator studying prey.
"Selene Voss. Adept Rank. Assassin."
Selene smirked, tilting her head. "So, you're the one we have to baby sit." Her tone was playful, but there was a distinct edge beneath it. "I don't know why they are allowing a kid inside a dungeon where the death rate is unpredictable."
Ray met her gaze evenly, offering no reaction. If she is trying to test me, she'd have to try harder.
Liera moved on, gesturing to the massive armored man standing beside Selene.
His dark gray armor was lined with glowing patterns, and a massive tower shield was strapped to his back. His posture was solid, unshakable, like an unmovable wall between his allies and danger.
"Garrick Holt. Expert Rank. Guardian."
Garrick barely spared Ray a glance before turning his attention back toward the dungeon entrance, his presence exuding quiet patience. A man who spoke through actions, not words.
Next, Liera's hand pointed toward a robed figure standing slightly apart from the others. Draped in dark navy robes, silver hair falling past his shoulders, and eyes so pale they seemed almost otherworldly. Mana rippled faintly around his fingertips—subtle, yet undeniable.
"Lucien Vale. Adept Rank. Mage."
Lucien's gaze was detached, indifferent. He studied Ray the way one might study an unfamiliar phenomenon—something that intrigued him but was ultimately unimportant.
Liera continued, her next introduction leading to a woman leaning lightly on a staff. She wore a mix of cloth and armor, white robes adorned with delicate embroidery that signified her role.
Her hazel eyes carried no hostility, but there was something else beneath the surface—resignation, perhaps?
"Irene Calloway. Adept Rank. Healer."
Irene sighed softly. "I suppose I should prepare for extra work."
Ray raised an eyebrow slightly, but she merely shook her head, as if she had already made peace with the inevitable trouble he would bring.
Lastly, Liera's attention shifted to the final member of the squad—a man clad in a dark tactical uniform. A bow in his hands with arrows attached to his back. Blond hair neatly trimmed, brown eyes sharp, ever watchful.
"Vince Holloway. Adept Rank. Archer."
Vince gave Ray a once-over before shaking his head slightly. "Heard you're Apprentice Rank." His voice was laced with skepticism. "Either you have a death wish, or you know something we don't."
Ray met his gaze without hesitation and replied, "Maybe both."
Vince let out a short laugh but said nothing more.
With the introductions complete, Liera turned back to Nathaniel. "You know the mission. Get what intel you can and come back alive."
Nathaniel nodded. "Understood."
She hesitated for a brief second before her gaze landed on Ray again. Unlike before, her usual irritation had faded, replaced with something else—something unreadable.
She was debating whether to say something or not, but after a while she sighed.
Then, without another word, she stepped aside.
The dungeon entrance loomed before them—a violet portal pulsating with a rhythmic beat like a heartbeat.
A deep, unnatural chill seeped from within, curling around Ray's ankles like unseen tendrils, colder than the crisp morning air.
The atmosphere shifted the moment they neared it. The faint hum of conversation from the other hunters, the rustling of leaves, even the sound of their own footsteps seemed to dull, swallowed by the presence of something unseen.
The ground trembled ever so slightly beneath Ray's boots, a near-imperceptible vibration, as if something beneath the surface was stirring.
A whisper of wind drifted out from the abyss, carrying with it a scent—damp earth, the faint metallic tang of old blood.
Ray inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves. His fingers curled tighter around his sword hilt,It begins.
Nathaniel was the first to step forward, his movements unfazed, as if walking into the mouth of death was just another day.
The others followed in silent synchronization, their discipline evident in the way they moved.
Ray took a step, and the moment his foot crossed the threshold, the oppressive aura deepened.
Then, they disappeared into the darkness.
***
As soon as Ray stepped past the dungeon's threshold, reality seemed to distort.
A dizzying pull overtook him as the teleportation took effect, a momentary sensation of weightlessness before his feet found solid ground again.
The shift was disorienting but brief—his body had grown accustomed to it after past experiences.
Then, everything stilled.
The air inside the dungeon was thick, charged with something unseen yet oppressive.
The silence was suffocating,
It wasn't just the absence of sound, it was like stepping into a void where even the echoes of life had been swallowed whole.
But then something stirred.
A ripple across the reality unseen by anyone.
Like a breath exhaled by something vast and unseen beneath the surface of reality.
[Second Condition Met: Presence of Vessel of @^$%@% Detected]
[Opening the entrance to the Boss Room]
A cold, mechanical voice vibrated through the dungeon, its distorted cadence like a whisper crawling along the edges of existence.
Yet, no one reacted.
Not Nathaniel, whose sharp gaze swept the surroundings. Not Vince, whose fingers twitched near his bowstring.
Not even Selene, ever perceptive, showed the slightest flicker of recognition.
The Unusual voice had spoken.
And yet, no one—not even Ray—had heard it.
[All Traps Disabling...]
A pulse rippled outward.
The unseen tension within the walls unraveled, the subtle hum of mana-infused mechanisms flickering out one by one.
Had Ray been able to perceive it, he might have imagined countless invisible threads snapping, releasing their deadly hold.
[All Guardians Vanishing...]
Then came the silence.
Not just quiet—true, suffocating nothingness.
The ever-present background noises of a dungeon—the distant skittering of creatures, the guttural growls from unseen depths—all faded as if erased.
Gone.
And in their place was unsettling silence.
Nathaniel came to an abrupt stop, his entire posture shifting from alert to rigid.
"What the hell is this?" Vince muttered, his voice lower now, uncertain. His hand hovered near his bow, fingers flexing.
Selene exhaled sharply, her smirk long gone. "I can feel it, all the presence nearby disappeared."
Irene pressed her fingers to her temple, lips moving in a silent prayer.
Lucien's pale eyes narrowed ever so slightly, though he said nothing.
Ray clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around his sword. He didn't know what this was. He didn't understand what had just happened.
But one thing was certain.
The dungeon had reacted to him.
***